“And what’s in the letter?” asked O’Rorke, carelessly.
“Nothing beyond his readiness to be of use, and all that. He writes with difficulty, he says, and that’s not hard to believe—an infernal scrawl it is—and he promises to send a long letter by the post tomorrow. By the way, how do they get the letters at Arran?”
“They send for them once a week to the mainland; on Saturdays, if I remember aright.”
“We must arrest this correspondence then, or we shall be discovered at once. How can we obtain her letters?”
“Easy enough. I know the boy that comes for them, and he can’t read, though he can tell the number of letters that he should have. I’ll have one ready to substitute for any that should be to her address.”
“Well thought of. I see, O’Rorke, you are the man I wanted; now listen to me attentively, and hear my plan. I must return to the Castle, and pretend that I have pressing business in town. Instead of taking the London mail, however, I shall proceed to Holyhead, where you must wait for me at the inn, the Watkins’ Arms. I hope to be there tomorrow morning early, but it may be evening before I can arrive. Wait, at all events, for my coming.”
“Remember that I promised to be back in Arran, with the answer to her letter, by Saturday.”
“So you shall. It is fully as important for me that you should keep your word.”
“Does he want her back again?” said O’Rorke, not fully satisfied that he had not seen Sir Within’s note.
“No, not exactly; at least, it is evasive, and very short. It is simply to this purport: ‘I conclude you have made a mistake by leaving me, and think you might have humility enough to acknowledge it; meanwhile, I send you a cheque for two hundred. I shall write to-morrow more fully.’”